


and the skeletons tittered

by phoenixdowned



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Breaking Up & Making Up, Closet Sex, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Trapped In A Closet, what if less church and more school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixdowned/pseuds/phoenixdowned
Summary: Stumbling into dark alcoves together was clearly a thing they didn't do anymore. Neither of them at fault, just an unspoken, unavoidable casualty of the messy end to their third year at the Officers Academy.And yet here they were, two years later, stuck in a closet and pretending Claude hadn't mapped the inside of Dimitri's mouth a dozen times over.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 130





	and the skeletons tittered

**Author's Note:**

> the AU where no more church/slithers + lots more schooling = timeskip Dimitri/Claude in uniforms 
> 
> yeehaw

The Officers Academy. For centuries, it was a premier finishing school for Fódlan's elite when they came of age. The place anyone of any social standing ought to attend if they had any hope of forging connections with their peers in the grand political game that swept the nobility. Boasting the attendance of emperors, queens, lords and ladies alike, it was an institute meant to refine their skills for a handful of years before they went on to fulfill their duties to their families and territories. Until then, students could pursue the intellectual, combat, or magical arts at their leisure.

It was the Officers Academy's worst kept secret that many students took the opportunity a step further and dabbled in less...scholastic pursuits while away from home. But as long as these diversions didn't interfere with their responsibilities, it mattered little who tupped who in their second year or who arranged clothing-optional gatherings at the lake. Though such school tales _did_ make for good fodder for the inebriated gossiping required to get through the long-winded speeches some nobility thought it was their destiny to indulge in. These last few social seasons were no different and every ball-goer both in and out of Andrestia learned to dread the telltale clinking of Lord Arundel's pastry fork against crystal and harkened back to less suffering days.

Far older than the academy itself was its home, the ancient Garreg Mach Monastery. Once a devoted house of worship, the mountaintop keep was now a confluence of learning and noble hobnobbing. As massive as any fortress in Fódlan and as decadently constructed as any of its palaces, Garreg Mach was built to last a siege but filled with frescos on the ceiling and stained glass windows at every turn. In each room, intricate candelabras flickered to life when a single soul wandered near and brought a rush of warmth. Through lush gardens, mosaic pathways guided curious feet to a tea courtyard surrounded by flowers and statues of a goddess and saints of a fading religion. Garreg Mach was a majestic, inconceivable example of architecture, craftsmanship, and artistry of ages past.

And, as most timeworn buildings were, just a little bit busted.

"Are you sure you can't just _try_ to force the door open?" Claude sighed, a slump of folded limbs in his corner of the closet. "Just one little baby shove from your Princeliness and I bet it'll reconsider cruelly trapping us in here for all eternity."

Dimitri, in the other three corners, took a deep breath. "As I told you already, I refuse to purposely damage academy property. Millenia-old property, at that."

Claude squinted at the offending antique. Considering their prison seemed little more than an empty cupboard, it truly was a behemoth slab of dark wood. Easily thick enough to absorb their shouts and Claude's physicality, the whole thing smacked of an impracticality that had him picking over the idea that maybe this one-way door was more of an intended design than simple disrepair.

He _did_ hear the Church of Seiros had been a secretive bunch. Freaky, too.

Either way, he was stuck in a veritable closet with the soon-to-be King of Faerghus, knees and elbows knocking into each other as they tried to reconcile their bodies with the cramped walls and unyielding stone floor.

Claude wasn't complaining. Not seriously. 

Nor was he all that invested in Dimitri smashing the door into kindling. Other than the show, of course. But with his companion tight-lipped and stiffly apologetic for every little brush of their bodies, Claude was starting to get restless.

There was the obvious explanation. One he'd _maybe_ been ignoring. Part and parcel of the Officers Academy experience, allegedly. A recurring tale forewarned and flouted who knows how far back, but always, _always_ a foregone conclusion.

Claude didn't buy it.

Dimitri, on other hand...

"First, it might be that old. _Might_. Plenty of fires and wood-eating bugs in the past to not possibly be a centuries-young knock-off. Second... Didn't you break the door to the infirmary once?"

Dimitri's lips flattened. "That was different."

Claude hugged one knee to his chest, chin perched on top. "Uh huh. _Do_ tell."

"As if the story hasn't already made the rounds," Dimitri muttered.

"And its many, _many_ variations, yep! I've heard everything from you forgetting to push instead of pull to a–" Claude clutched his chest, voice a breathless gasp. " _–passionate_ love affair with Professor Maneula gone terribly wrong."

For a moment, Claude thought his jest fell flat – too close to the mark, _their_ mark – but then Dimitri's snort broke the silence. "Wherever did you hear the last one?" he asked with all the wryness of someone long-used to being the star of some spectacularly off-base gossip. Almost five years of this place could do that to you. 

A pity. It used to be so much easier to pinken his Royal Highness' cheeks. He wondered every so often if he still could.

"Professor Manuela actually. She was clearly kidding. 'Why, men are just breaking down my door left and right these days!' But you know how it is. Give these vultures a taste–"

"And they'll pick you clean, yes." He shifted his legs, trying to ease his discomfort until he gave in with another low apology, rearranging his body until he was sitting cross-legged. "Yet I have no doubt you were able to tell fact from fiction. You're far too clever to fall prey to the nonsense our peers concoct out of boredom."

Claude blinked, before huffing out a pleased laugh. "While your compliments about my intellect are _always_ appreciated," He gently nudged Dimitri's leg with his own, enjoying the way he startled in response. "I'm sure you know I was angling for a retelling."

Dimitri crossed his arms, the frown on his face primed to bow out from another attempt at a conversation. But then– "There's nothing to tell. I simply convinced Dedue to visit the infirmary after he finally admitted to experiencing some chronic muscle pain. I was concerned, so I waited for him after Mercedes' embroidery seminar concluded early. But then I heard..." He looked up, regarding the lone sconce, the flame offering a pittance of light. Which, again, _weird_ for a simple storage room. "It wasn't a simple shout. It was more of a, a squawk? But I was so taken aback by the noise, I...cracked the door in my haste to open it." He shook his head, a sheepish slant to his mouth. "An embarrassing overstepping on my part, but Dedue wouldn't hear of my apologies. I suspect in part because of his newfound partiality to Professor Manuela's remedy."

Claude laughed, triumphant at the sheer amount of _nothing to tell._ "Dedue's been missing out for years. Those fire and blizzard patches of hers are a staple in the Golden Deer." He had a neat little stash himself and was forever torn if he should sacrifice them to the pursuit of puzzling out _why_ they were so good. Manuela would only say it was made from the burning passion of love and the icy chill of being stood up for _emergency laundry duty_.

"Perhaps it's something to look into. Admittedly, many of my house are more...reluctant to visit the infirmary. Especially if they strained themselves while training."

That tracked. Needless masochism did seem to be a Faerghan custom. 

"If you distribute them out like candy once, I guarantee they'll come crawling back for more. But don't use too many at once." With a smile that threatened to turn into a full blown grin, Claude drank in the open expression of curiosity on Dimitri's face. "I remember this one time Raphael wheedled a whole pack off of Professor Manuela after he overworked himself. All because _apparently_ Caspar said sticking a bunch of them all over your body was a quick shortcut back to training. So there we were, a whole group of us poised to smack on a dozen of them on Raphael at the same time. And when we did... Heh, let's just say the academy's bird population eventually came back. A week tops. But I don't think they've quite forgiven Raph for the scare if the presents splattered outside his door are any indication."

With an amused noise, Dimitri rested his head against the wall, another tuft of blonde hair slipping free of the band holding it back. "I...believe I recall that. Did you tell me once before? Or perhaps it was someone else..." Claude had. On a market run that had detoured into the woods. "Regardless, your house always seems to find amusement in the oddest places."

"What can I say? We're determined to have some fun in the time we have left." The specter of life after the academy was looming ever closer for all of them. And for many, it wasn't a friendly one. "But back to door breaking. You're clearly well-versed in it. No one would bat an eye if there was another splintered victim. Especially for such a good cause."

Dimitri scoffed. "Truly, a blessed thing to be known for."

"Hey, you got your whole reign ahead of you to make sure you're not known as King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Shatterer of Doors, Bane of Hinges."

Dimitri's voice said, "Please. Stop." But the curve of his mouth gave him away. "Sylvain might take you seriously and then I'd have to deal with the very real possibility of him bribing a herald to announce that."

"You're very welcome for providing you with an ice breaker that's both interesting and innocuous." Flashing a coy grin, Claude crossed his legs to lean into the scant space between them, fingers innocently splayed on an armor-plated knee. "Well. Unless you mention the days you spent trapped with Duke Riegan. Charming guy like that? No wonder you were so reluctant to kick in a thousand year old door, your Majesty." 

At that, Dimitri flinched back, elbows loudly cracking into the wall. "That's not–" Both his smile and gaze dropped, the pit in Claude's stomach following suit. "I. Ah, I'm not king yet, Claude. And...'days' is pushing it, don't you think? Surely someone will happen to pass by and see my cloak..." 

When it had become apparent that shouting was getting them nowhere, Dimitri had easily shrugged off the fur-trimmed cloak he'd taken to wearing and slipped a corner of it under the door. It was a good idea. The shock of royal blue in an otherwise abandoned hallway was a much better lure than making themselves hoarse.

"And if not, give it...give it some time. Someone will come looking for us." And in a lower murmur, "They always do."

Maybe for Dimitri. Not to imply that the little circle Claude surrounded himself with was callous. They were just used to his disappearing acts. Unless it was Judith actively hunting him down to drag him back to Derdriu, Claude would have to be missing for a while before someone realized he hadn't purposely squirreled himself away.

Which sounded pretty nice right about now. Hadn't he just gotten a package from that apothecary in Varley? It _had_ been a while since he lost himself to alchemic curiosity. There was nothing quite like breaking down and repurposing herbal reagents that were maybe a little trade-restricted to the Empire. 

...Ha. Who was he kidding?

Flopping back into his corner, Claude groaned long and loud, overblown enough to cover the burn of disappointment. "Fine, fine. Leave us to waste away. Who needs dinner anyway? Or working limbs?" 

Things were quiet after that.

After losing a staring contest with the ceiling and going over the scant contents of his pockets a dozen times, Claude forced himself to settle. He'd just have to lean back and wait this out until someone actually did wander by. Or when the demands of their bodies forced Dimitri's hand. 

It was frustrating. Claude couldn't see why he didn't put an end to this. If Dimitri was this distressed around him, why prolong things? For a door no one would think twice about? Did the pendulum swing from one extreme to the other and now Dimitri thought he needed to toe the line to the point of obstinacy?

"Claude."

He glanced up from where he'd been mindlessly fiddling with the hem of his sleeve and met a gaze far more solemn than his agitated goading warranted. With Claude's eyes on him, Dimitri hesitated only a moment before reaching across and squeezing his shoulder. "We will not fall here. I wouldn't allow that."

Claude, for his part, considered the long, solid arm connecting them rather than their improbable doom. Dimitri's palm cradled the curve of his shoulder, fingers resting over the muscle they had briefly pressed into with a delicacy that took Claude off-guard. Had his hands gotten bigger? Maybe the gauntlets? It was probably the gauntlets.

"Uh, yeah. Definitely not. Nope." Claude paused, played back his words and realized they made no sense. "I mean–I'm not worried about it. Becoming a literal skeleton in the closet isn't in my agenda. Worse comes to worst and no one comes by? I'm confident in my ability to exasperate you into reconsidering a little wood violence." It had been a while since Claude had pushed Dimitri's buttons rather than pop them off. But he was sure he could come up with something.

"You don't–" Dimitri's voice rose in protest, before his lips twisted shut. After a long moment, he started again. "I...apologize. I realize it's my fault we're even in this situation. I should have–I'll take full responsibility. It's only right." A pause, then, "If, if no one comes, I mean to say." He hastily retracted his arm, the space between them a tangible thing.

Claude frowned.

Fault and responsibility. _Of course_ that would be the segue Dimitri responded to. It was why Claude had thought he would have been an eventual stop in his grand contrition tour around the academy. There he went, righting wrongs and healing hurts of the last year with a kingly remorse that Claude found worryingly attractive. Realistically though, he'd expected a brief acknowledgement of what they had and then onward to them being good little heirs, building a rapport that would transition with them into their new roles as King and Sovereign Duke.

And Claude would have accepted that. Gracefully, even. But Dimitri never sought him out. And the lack of tidy closure left him wondering.

Perhaps, Dimitri, too, was dragging his feet on the expected thing to do. And found himself wanting something that didn't fall neatly in line with his responsibilities. His aspirations.

Alternatively, he had an overblown guilt complex Claude had no interest in feeding. For both their sakes.

"Hmm." He stroked his chin, fingers catching on the bristly hairs of the beard he was giving a go. "As part of your penance, you can tell me what Gilbert did that made you yank me into this hole with you to avoid him." Not that the first few minutes hadn't been thrilling, but once he realized the heaving of Dimitri's chest was out of anxiety rather than what most people got tugged into dark corners around here for, well. 

It was enlightening, just how eager he'd been.

As if he had anticipated one response and found himself woefully off-kilter when presented with another, Dimitri opened his mouth and left it hanging. He stared at Claude, confused and uneasy, until eventually the tension in his body whooshed out into an aggrieved sigh. "Gilbert–Gustave... He still strongly disapproves of me choosing to finish out my time here before taking the crown. Even the most mundane of conversations he manages to work in how I should be in Fhirdiad and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to remain...cordial."

In the face of such stodgy conviction, Claude would have taken his chances on the first door he saw too. That Dimitri hadn't done what he always did and stood his ground despite his best interests probably meant that Gilbert had been dogging him for a while.

"Feel free to tell me to mind my own Alliance business, but wasn't Gilbert a Kingdom knight that cut and ran after Duscur?"

Claude didn't mean to be glib. But there really wasn't a polite, succinct way of phrasing King Lambert's assassination and the ensuing frame job of the Duscur people by Lord Kleiman. Claude didn't know if it was cold comfort to Dimitri that the whole thing had at least been clumsy enough to be sussed out in time to avoid a massacre or if it had been a saving grace. There was definitely a story why Dedue stuck to Dimitri's side like some particularly muscular glue rather than be with his people who had, understandably, become more self-isolated.

Instead of the stormy displeasure that had been his go-to reaction last year whenever Kingdom affairs were aired, Dimitri simply looked tired. "No...it's. It's fairly common knowledge now. Especially with Annette's attempts to get through to him." 

Dimitri rubbed under the place where the cord of his eyepatch split in twain and framed his ear, careful not to jostle it out of place as he tried to soothe the irritated skin. "I know his decision to leave wasn't made lightly, but..."

Claude cut off those far too diplomatic words with a scoff. "Whatever his reasons, he did leave the Kingdom. And his family." _And you_ echoed in the space between them. "So, maybe not the best guy to be throwing around his opinion about what you should be doing. Your time is better spent on focusing on what you've decided to do and if you can stand by it. Not if men like Gilbert can swallow it."

Low-lidded in the low light, Dimitri stared at Claude in a way that made him reflexively tack on, "But this isn't the future Duke Riegan giving his opinion on regional matters." Gesturing to himself: Black uniform coat unbuttoned all the way down, the sash around his waist loosened with the, ah, what he'd never correct anyone for calling _pom poms_ squished somewhere under his leg... Claude was the very picture of off-the-record. "Just the guy you dragged in here with you to avoid a lecture."

Dimitri regarded Claude with a curious tilt to his head. A lone blue eye dragged up from his crossed legs to his tousled hair, eventually settling on Claude's face. "Whether you're acting in your capacity as the future leader of the Alliance or as...as _Claude_ , I've never carelessly tossed your opinion aside," he said softly. "While your motives are occasionally opaque enough to be inexplicable... You're remarkably insightful, often seeing what I cannot."

Dipping his head down, Dimitri closed his eye. "And you're right. I've already made my decision. It's high time I act the king I am to be rather than continue on as a prince anxious to appease his mentors." Looking back up, Dimitri offered a smile. Small as it was, it brightened his whole face. "Thank you, Claude. You've given me much to think on. As you always do."

Like a sharpened arrow, Dimitri's guileless sincerity sunk so easily into Claude, hitting deeper than bone and blood. 

He cleared his throat, feeling fidgety. "Oh, yeah, sure." It was almost annoying how Dimitri could disrupt the careful planning he gave to each uttered word. "And having said that, I also think you had the right idea. Arguing with Gilbert is like arguing with a wall. I would have booked it too the moment I saw that dour brow coming my way."

Dimitri hummed, a tactful non-answer. "He can be reasoned with. Given the right approach. Perhaps I can elicit Annette's help next time..."

Now that got a laugh out of Claude. "Oho, has his Princeliness finally learned how to play a little underhanded?"

"I'm simply exploring my options. It's better than fleeing and trapping myself in the process, is it not?"

"Oh, I dunno, I like to think I'm better company than ole Gil." Claude chewed his lip, just shy of tasting blood. "Speaking of... You explained how we ended up here, but not so much why you roped me in as an accomplice."

Dimitri's gaze widened then skittered away again. "Ah. I. I...suppose I was torn between continuing our discussion and avoiding Gustave."

Claude lifted an eyebrow. It had been a dead-end conversation. After spotting Dimitri alone and uncharacteristically free of the lion cubs that had clung to him since the start of the term, Claude had cornered him with small talk. Either taken off-guard or still too polite, he had instinctively entertained Claude's inane comments about the humidity. Of course, Gilbert had rounded the corner just when he'd planned to drop in a casually-worded invitation to tea.

It was hard to remember that at one point it wasn't uncommon for Claude to butt into Dimitri's daily routine with an arm slung over his shoulders and a coy grin. No token protests, no pretending he was enduring Claude's presence. Just an answering smile and easily given excuses as Claude dragged him off to experience all the quiet nooks Garreg Mach had to offer.

But that was life. One day you're sucking hickies into a prince's neck, the next he's being whisked away back home to be accused of arranging his uncle's murder. Claude didn't hold it against the guy for not formally breaking off their tryst. Not when Claude had been the one to kiss quiet any lust-drunk declarations Dimitri attempted to make and not while his life was falling apart on him again.

And it wasn't like Claude hadn't had his own problems to deal with. Popping back and forth from Derdriu to the Oghma Mountains throughout last year and then arriving a month late to his fifth and final year at the Officer's Academy had been one giant headache. But between his grandfather's failing health and the Alliance lords demanding House Riegan personally attend each roundtable conference, he didn't have much wiggle room. When he was officially Duke, he'd have more sway. But until then he'd have to deal with being treated as both a wet-eared stand-in and a mandatory vote beholden to the tedious disagreements of the Alliance nobility.

Still, Claude couldn't keep his eyes from wandering. Not when Dimitri had finally returned from Fhirdiad as a volatile recluse who threw himself into the requests the Academy's mercenary guild normally fielded or just took off on his own fighting bandits and beasts. And not when Claude had arrived from Derdriu this last Harpstring Moon and found Dimitri changed yet again – neither the perfect prince or the broken man, but someone Claude could see being King.

And through it all, my, how Dimitri had grown.

"Didn't realize you were that concerned about the weather," Claude commented mildly.

Dimitri ducked his head. "It's...it's been unseasonably warm has it not?" he said, cheeks finally reddening.

Claude smiled. Really, with an opening like that, how could he not? "You're right. It _is_ pretty hot." He made a show of fanning himself, before leaning forward to slip his arms free of his coat. 

"W-what are you...?"

"Just getting comfortable. Especially if we're going to be here awhile. Small space like this? Gets pretty muggy, pretty quick."

Dimitri fidgeted enough to knock into Claude. "You're...not wrong. And the flame certainly isn't helping matters. Why would a storage room need enchanted warming anyway..."

Snickering at the clumsy, if astute babbling, Claude craned his head to catch Dimitri's eye. Giddiness was filling his chest. Like the precipice of a well-executed scheme, but better. More. "Dimitri. You can undo a button or two. Swear I won't tell."

Claude had said something similar that first night. Both of them weary from their literary pursuits, but neither of them in a hurry to gather their things and leave. They lingered in the candlelight of the library, stealing away moment after moment with idle talk and layered looks.

And Claude hadn't told. Not of Dimitri's sharp inhale as deft hands toyed with the epaulette on his shoulder. Or how he had warily regarded Claude, looking for the joke or the trap. Claude hadn't breathed a word of how Dimitri had gone stiff and then melted so sweetly in his embrace, letting himself be pushed against a bookshelf as Claude indulged his own rabbit-quick heart with the taste of the prince's tongue.

He hadn't told a soul. Nor of the times after.

"Claude..." was rasped softly, helplessly. Maybe he remembered too.

"Dimitri," Claude returned easily.

He sucked in a breath and shuddered it out. But Dimitri said nothing else.

Claude had been waiting. For an ending, for a sign, for something more than the tangle they'd been left in. But maybe Dimitri had been waiting too. 

"Is there another reason you don't want to open the door?" Claude asked, gentle but prodding. Offering an out, but also an opening.

Huddled into himself, Dimitri studied Claude. Just like that first night. But, no, that wasn't quite right. They weren't the same people. Couldn't be. Dimitri, a little more cagey, a little more unraveled. Claude, a little more worn, a little less fixated on covering up every little raw spot.

"I..." Claude could hear him clench his hands, the leather of his gloves straining under his gauntlets. But like dawn breaking after a dark, desolate night, resolve washed over his face, clearing the conflict. Without his gaze leaving Claude, Dimitri slowly reeled in his cloak from where it had been stuffed under the door, their one beacon to the world outside.

Claude swallowed, mouth as dry as the Morfian desert. Words were his forte, but he knew how they could fall short. Action for action, then.

A light smile danced on Claude's lips, belying the heavy thumping in his chest. "I don't know about you, but I can't stand this stuffiness." In what was far more than a couple of buttons, he took the bottom of his tunic and pulled it up and over his head. He wasn't that warm, but it still felt blissful being freed from his uniform shirt. It felt even better showing off how Dimitri hadn't been the only one to change physically.

Folding his arms behind his head, Claude fixed Dimitri with an expectant look, somewhat disrupted by his quick inhale as he felt his nipples hardened in the exposed air.

"There. So much better."

Claude hadn't been soft since Dimitri physically hauled him into the closet, arm around his waist and metal gauntlet pressed against his mouth as Gilbert passed by. But the way he looked at Claude now, fierce, wanting, _desperate_ , Claude felt himself grow almost uncomfortably heavy between his thighs.

The hand in Dimitri's lap twitched, extended, then faltered.

Claude snagged it before Dimitri retreated out of reach again. "Here. Let me help?" he asked gently, not moving until Dimitri gave a terse nod.

Carefully, he undid the buckles of the gauntlet and set it aside, giving Dimitri more than ample opportunity to brush him off. When his hand remained pliable, Claude pinched a fingertip of his glove and slid it off.

Ah. His hands _were_ bigger.

With no small delight, Claude explored the expanse of his palm. He smoothed over calluses and scars, traced veins and knuckles. His stubby nails, always so well groomed after he tore a nail off while training when he was younger – a fact dazedly admitted after Claude had sucked his fingers and teased him over his perfect princely hands.

He considered it now, but watching Dimitri, seeing how apprehension wormed its way back in second by second, Claude instead tugged the hand in his grip and rested it against his own neck. Not letting go, he pressed Dimitri's fingers against his pulse, letting him feel the nervous flutter of Claude's heart.

He smiled at Dimitri's awed look, letting the warm, slightly damp skin linger on one of his best kept secrets. 

When he was full to bursting, Claude squeezed Dimitri's hand and guided it to his nape, over the scar of a snapped bowstring he had picked at relentlessly as a child. Fingers wrapped around Dimitri's wrist, he tugged him down through his trail of chest hair. And then back up to his throat. With a heady mischief guiding his every move, he led Dimitri around the curve of his pec, only letting the question of direction hang for a moment before he used those long fingers to brush against his own nipple. Even directed by his own hand, Claude felt his cock give a wet twitch. And when he used Dimitri to cup his chest more fully, he couldn't help a shuddery whine.

And that's all it took.

The Dimitri of two years ago would have started things with a chaste, but decisive kiss. This Dimitri wrapped an arm around Claude's waist and hauled him onto his lap, pulling them flushed together as he parted Claude's lips with a sweet brutality.

Eager. So, so eager, Claude threw himself into the kiss with a resounding groan. He clutched Dimitri's neck, pressing himself closer until he had Dimitri pinned to the wall. Not entirely at his mercy, Dimitri sucked on his tongue and growled, tightening his arms around him until Claude squeaked out a sound he'd never made before.

It should have been claustrophobic, enclosed by narrow walls, surrounded by a mountain of a man masquerading as a prince. But the feel of the body against his was a revelation.

Claude was no stranger to wanting. His dreams were so big he sometimes wondered if they wouldn't consume him entirely one day, leaving behind only the bones of a man who wanted too much, too foolishly.

But this was different.

His dreams were already born out of a selfish altruism – _let no one else suffer what I had to_ – but this felt private. Greedy _._

He wanted Dimitri for himself.

He wanted his messily eager kisses. He wanted those disbelieving mutters of his name. He wanted that unthinking kindness, that frightening determination. He wanted his darkness, his light, and all the muddled up grey in between.

They had their responsibilities. Their duties as future leaders.

Right now, Claude didn't care. It was amazing how much he didn't care and all the plans he was willing to concoct to get what he wanted.

Dimitri. Dimitri, Dimitri, _Dimitri_.

He clutched tighter, kissed harder, trying to devour every moment of what could be wishful thinking in a stolen time. Dimitri responded in kind, mindful of his strength but his grip edging ever closer to painful. Not that Claude minded. He had always treasured the collection of bruises he was able to wring out of Dimitri. And left behind a few of his own.

While his mouth was busy drinking up every lovely sound Dimitri had to offer, his hands were even busier. The body against his had changed since the last time they had tumbled each other. And Claude was determined to chart every sharpened line, every inch that hadn't been there before. But he quickly found multiple catches.

The blue strap across his chest, for instance. Or the scratchy lines of embroidery. The armor pieces at his shoulders weren't too much in the way, but they weren't _skin_. Unwilling to let such a thing stand, Claude separated himself long enough to slip his hand in between them, undoing the clasps at Dimitri's collar and then moving downward. 

Dimitri groaned at the distance, face pitching forward to bury itself in Claude's nape. He panted and nuzzled against the heated skin, sucking in much needed air until his mouth found more interesting pursuits along Claude's neck.

His fingers floundered from the scrape of teeth at his pulse point, but soon enough Claude had opened the jacket and darted his hands inside. The sight and feel of the black tunic underneath was more frustrating than it should have been. But that was an easy fix.

One finger hooked under the neckline of his shirt, Claude sweetly offered his ultimatum. "Remove it or I'll rip it."

The protesting noise against his shoulder made Claude burn with a fondness he'd almost forgotten. "Fair's fair, Dimitri," he cooed into his ear, before kissing the skin next to it. It wasn't an idle threat either, Claude always had a dagger on him.

"I'll need to–" Dimitri cut himself off with another reluctant groan before he rocked back. With another show of that dizzying strength, he easily shifted Claude back into his corner, the two of them separated once more. 

Shame, Claude should have just cut it.

Like a man possessed, Dimitri removed his other gauntlet and glove in a matter of moments, the former impacting the wall before being cushioned by the puddle of cloak. And then... Dimitri was– Gods, he was tall enough that when he leaned forward to slip off his jacket, he dipped into Claude's space. And if his head continued the track it was on...

Sharply biting down on his lip, Claude watched as Dimitri's head hovered over his lap as he grappled with his uniform. With trousers loose enough that he wasn't trapped in a pant leg, his cock curved upward toward his beltline. The head rubbed uncomfortably against the waistband of his smallclothes, dampening them with every shiver. If Dimitri thought to look, he probably could see how much he was straining against the black fabric. If he stared long enough, maybe he'd see a dark spot appear.

Claude drew in a breath, and then another, trying to keep himself under control as he watched Dimitri struggle far too close to his dick. After everything, Claude wouldn't easily get over the disappointment of coming inside his pants. Sure, sometimes it had been sexy when they had been flagging each other down near every week. Sauntering back to his room back then had felt more obscene than embarrassing thanks to the length of his coat and the promise of another meeting. But now?

At the very least, Claude wanted those hands on him. 

He forced himself to relax, breathing deep and releasing the tight grip on his thighs. Not trusting his own hands with himself, Claude opted to lightly pet the blond hair in front of him, almost entirely free of its leather tie. 

Dimitri froze, jacket still clinging onto one arm. Claude skritched right where his hair parted and he leaned into it, body tremouring with a sigh until he shook off his jacket at last. With a delicate touch, Dimitri took the hand on him, kissed the knuckles in a way that obliterated Claude's efforts to calm down and dropped it to tug his tunic off.

And then, he leaned back.

A drop of sweat traveled the strong curve of Dimitri's jaw. It trailed the long line of his neck, dragging down before disappearing into the dip of his chest. 

His very impressive, definitely heaving chest.

This time, Claude slipped into Dimitri's lap himself, making no attempt to conceal how affected he was. He pressed himself against Dimitri's lower belly and groaned, the pressure warm wonderful torture. Dimitri, having suffered longer in his shirt, was already damp with sweat and their bare chests slid together as Dimitri rocked Claude against him.

He grinned at Dimitri, pressing back into the hands kneading his ass and let himself look. The more his eyes mapped the changed landscape of Dimitri's body, the harder it was to resist taking himself in hand and rubbing himself raw to the sight before him.

But what fun was there in chasing only his pleasure?

Distracting Dimitri with a sucking kiss, Claude snuck a hand downward and felt himself shudder at the sheer handful he got. Swallowing down Dimitri's choked whimper, his fingers mapped out the lines of his cock through his trousers. "I probably could barely get my hand around you now, huh?" he breathed into Dimitri's gaping mouth. He squeezed, gently at first and then harder.

Dimitri shivered so badly his head knocked against the wall. "C-Claude..."

"What about my mouth, I wonder?"

Unmindful of the arm pinned between them, Dimitri jerked Claude back into a ravage kiss, lapping into his mouth and biting at his lips a touch too viciously until Claude had to wrest himself away for breath, head spinning and a line of drool at the corner of his mouth.

"Good idea? Good idea."

Leaving Dimitri to scramble to catch up, Claude pecked his nose and untangled himself from the cradle of Dimitri's body, scooting backwards on his knees until he ran into a problem. The unfortunately literal kind.

"Crap," Claude muttered as his boots collided with the wall.

"W-what?"

Claude patted Dimitri's chest. Groped it a little too, just because. "No, not you. Definitely not you. Just...not enough space."

At Dimitri's puzzled look, he clarified, "To suck you off, your Highness."

The small moue of discontent was pretty damn cute. "Please...no titles when you've, ah–"

"Handled the royal jewels?"

" _Flames_." He scrubbed at his face, careful to avoid his eyepatch that had managed to valiantly hold on.

"Sorry. Looks like there's not enough room to get too wild." With a sharp smile, Claude crawled back into Dimitri's lap. "But I can still make it good for the both of us." He paused. And with the greatest reluctance added, "Unless, you have any objections? With that or...anything else." Not the greatest of mood-setters, but Claude wasn't the type to let his dick ruin future relations with an entire country. 

Dimitri's dick however...

"I, no. Unless this is your way of saying you–?"

With the first chaste kiss of this overdue encounter, Claude sweetly shut Dimitri up. "The only objection I have is how I wasn't able to have my way with you in a bed."

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_."

He rocked gently against Dimitri, their still clothed cocks rubbing against each other at a gentle, maddening pace. The slow simmer of pleasure snaking up his spine smothered the surge of nerves. "Let me tell you a secret. Free of charge."

He shuddered as one roll of his hips hit the head of his cock in just the right way and he chased after that spot, voice growing breathy. "I never stopped looking. Never...never stopped wondering–" With strands of his hair falling into his face, Claude listed forward for a kiss, but stopped short. "What if I had let you promise yourself to me that night before you left for Fhirdiad?" Lips brushing with every whispered word, his green eyes glowed in the dim light. "Maybe then I would have had the courage to wrest an answer from you sooner."

Dimitri went still. 

And so did Claude, after a queasy beat. Eyes fluttering closed, he plastered on an easy smile and leaned back. "But it's been a while, hasn't it? And a lot has happened since then." There had been a reason, after all, why Claude had smothered Dimitri's attempts back then. Wouldn't that be something, if they had switched priorities? "Things must be stressful, huh? Getting closer to graduation and your coronation? If you're only interested in letting off some steam, I'm up for it." One last taste wouldn't be so bad.

With an iron grip, the hands on his hips pinned Claude in place. "I would _never_. Claude..." Mouth scrunched up, and eye a desperate sort of earnest, Dimitri spoke in a rush of air. "Do you realize how much I regretted letting you go before I left? How much I despised myself for squandering such a precious thing to my anger and grief when I came back? I hardly dared to hope you didn't hold me in contempt for my actions, much less–" He struggled with the words, but Claude got it.

Cupping his jaw, Claude tried to soothe the almost manic energy making Dimitri shake. "Hey now, definitely not squandered. I mean, I guess I could play the jilted lover. But life's the one that jilted the both of us." 

"But I still–"

Claude pinched Dimitri's cheek. "Yes. _Yes_ , you were an asshole last year. You did a lot of stupid and reckless shit from what I heard." He had never found out how exactly Dimitri had lost his eye, hadn't even been around. He had come back from Derdriu and only caught sight of the bandages from a distance. But he knew it had been on one of his unsanctioned bandit hunts. "I'm not going to sit here and baby your conscience. But I'm also not going to pretend life hasn't been trying its very best to crush you underfoot."

Stampeding over the objection on Dimitri's lips with another deep kiss, Claude continued, "You have your apologies to make, things you have to make right and do better for. But as far as I go? I was never waiting for an apology, Dimitri." Clarification, if anything. But it took time and him shifting through his own bullshit to realize he even wanted it in the first place. "If we're getting real honest here, I wasn't even around long enough to see the worst of it. I was wrapped up in my own affairs. Last year was...a lot. But you weren't the main reason why."

Definitely top five though.

Dimitri searched for the lie, for the places Claude delicately sidestepped the truth. Eventually, he wilted, reluctantly conceding when he didn't find what he was looking for.

"You're letting me off far too easily," he murmured, a touch pained.

"I have a great pout if you'd like to see it." He winked. There was a longer conversation to be had, if things continued outside of this disparate fragment of time, framed by four cramped walls and the faint orange flicker of flame. But now, Claude was selfish, wanting more than Dimitri's remorse.

Dimitri smiled. A rueful, fond thing. He pressed his forehead against Claude's, hand carding through his hair. "You have many great things. Your mind. Your wit. Your heart."

Claude tsked loudly, his chest feeling close to bursting. "Getting suspiciously complimentary there."

"How are they compliments when they're simply the truth?"

"Alright, enough of that," Claude groused, feeling his cheeks warm. "Real inconsiderate of you trying to sweet talk me right in the middle of _my_ sweet talking."

"Are you not swayed?" Dimitri's thumbs traced the jut of Claude's hip bones back and forth, back and forth. "Or shall I continue? I neglected to mention so many more. Like your body. Your voice. Your tenacity. Even your schemes leave me stunned. Just how was I able to catch the attention of this brilliant shooting star bound for greatness?"

Lips smashed against lips as a throaty groan filled the small space. Claude stole the breath behind those sweet words and allowed himself to buck against the bulge of Dimitri's cock, feverishly rubbing it against his own before he tore himself away with a wet gasp.

"Shit, okay, lemme try. Spread your legs."

"Wha–"

"Congratulations. You've buttered me up enough I'm willing to risk an awkward trip to Manuela to get my mouth on your royal cock. Now spread 'em." 

Pushing himself off and back to his side of the closet, Claude pressed himself against the wall and watched as Dimitri scrambled to untangle himself. 

Before Claude could slide into the space made for him, a bundle of fur and fabric was nudged his way. "Here," Dimitri offered up his cloak. "For your knees."

Claude snorted, hopelessly charmed by the gesture. "A true prince through and through." Momentarily ignoring the treat that was Dimitri's spread legs, he focused on arranging the cloak to his liking, indulging his curiosity about the pelt's texture since he'd first seen it resting on Dimitri's shoulders.

He looked up, Faerghus and unique breeds of dire wolves on his mind, and bit back a groan as he saw the visible swell of Dimitri's cock through his pants.

Mouth watering and question forgotten, Claude manipulated himself onto his stomach and forearms, sinking into the fur. The arch of his back only felt a little unnatural and a tad obscene. Even without unbuttoning his pants, he felt exposed with his ass in the air and his own legs knocked apart.

Claude fed his impatience and nuzzled the jut of Dimitri's trapped cock, feeling the warmth of it even through the layers. Like shaking a gift before opening it, Claude traced the outline with his mouth and hands. He trailed over the long length of him, curling down to his sac and then up again. With cloth as a sufficient buffer, he dragged his teeth along the seam, relishing the resulting choke. Still not content, Claude sucked at where he thought the tip was, wickedly pleased when he was able to taste Dimitri.

Hands gripped his shoulders. "Claude, _please_." If the frantic, almost wet edge to Dimitri's pleas didn't sway him, the glance upward into his brilliantly flushed, completely wrecked face certainly did.

Claude turned to kiss one of the arms framing him. "Sorry, sorry. Got a little carried away." Backing off, Claude plucked open Dimitri's trousers before coaxing his cock out from under his smallclothes. 

If there was one thing Claude regretted about their time together in the past, it was his tendency to pick places where they never had enough light or space or time. This empty closet was barely any better, but in the dim glow, Claude was able to indulge in the sight of Dimitri's cock. Long and girthy, drooping from its own weight with how hard he was, light glinting off the dribble of fluid Claude had cajoled out with his mouth...

Breathing in deep at the sight, Claude pressed a kiss to the side of the base and looked up to catch Dimitri's eye. "You know... I had this whole quip in my head ready. For _years_. A perfect princely prick for his Princeliness." He pressed his cheek against the searing skin of his shaft, lightheaded with want. "But this is a cock fit for a king, huh?"

" _Claude_ ," Dimitri groaned, face twisted in a way Claude knew meant he wanted to hide it. But the sight must have been too good to look away.

Claude bet he could make a prettier picture.

He pulled away, smiling at how Dimitri squirmed at the scratch of his beard. It took only a moment of distracting him with it to wrap his fingers around Dimitri's cock and gently fist it. With a wounded sound, Dimitri shuddered and pitched forward, strands of his hair tickling Claude's back. 

He promptly choked on his snickers as hands he had sworn were clenched at Dimitri's side, suddenly cupped his ass and _squeezed_. Maybe it should have been alarming that this fierce, almost overwhelming grip was Dimitri holding back. But the thought made Claude writhe in his grip, panting as Dimitri kneaded the muscles and jolting when fingers occasionally brushed against his balls or glanced past his hole.

He felt more than heard the pleased hum and Claude threw a narrowed look at the stomach in front of him. Tightening fingers that had gone lax, Claude stroked Dimitri's cock. With Dimitri curled over him, shadows obstructed the finer details, but he took his time feeling him in his entirety, making sure the friction from his dry hand stayed enjoyable.

Eventually, he wandered near the head, fingers slipping into the small mess Dimitri was making. Gathering the trail of precum with his thumb, Claude sucked it into his mouth with a moan and popped out with a breathy sound.

"Delicious."

Suddenly finding it unbearable that his mouth wasn't on Dimitri's cock, Claude propped him up with a hand and dipped forward to lick the underside, starting from the bottom and working his way up. With care, he tugged down the foreskin with his lips, fingers helping to smooth it back when he let himself be distracted by the unrelenting grip of Dimitri's hands.

"There you are," Claude murmured, lips skimming the swollen head before he pressed up against the slick skin in a deep kiss. He sucked all around the sensitive glans, lapping up the sticky sheen and Dimitri steadily ruining his efforts with every quiver. 

Mouth tingling in anticipation, Claude swallowed back his own rough breathing and slowly nudged Dimitri's cock past his lips. A warm, wet, perfect mouthful, he contented himself with just the head at first, getting used to the weight on his tongue and the stretch of his lips.

The momentary lull also allowed him to savor the stuttering whimper above him.

Eager for more, he worked himself down further, taking what he could and withdrawing every so often to kiss and lick away spit and fluid. Claude marked how far he could comfortably go with his hands, not willing to gamble on his gag reflex and lose, and let himself go. He pulled back slowly, tongue dragging against veins before he sank back down, sluggishly speeding up until he'd gotten into a bobbing rhythm.

Mouth brimming with cock, Claude grunted when the hands at his ass tightened too much.

With a flinch Dimitri pulled back. "S-sorry! I didn't–I apologize..."

Claude compensated for the shift, following Dimitri's retreat with his mouth and patting him on the chest. Even as soothing pat turned opportunistic grope, the troubled look remained.

Pulling off, Claude sucked in a breath and worked his jaw. "Hey, I don't blame you. You _were_ handling some choice goods there."

Dimitri shook his head, looking to the side. "Still, I was careless."

" _Still_ , you reacted to my discomfort pretty damn fast considering I was trying my best to suck your soul out through your dick."

"Claude..."

"I know it's been a while, but I still have a pretty thorough list of examples of you not snapping me like a twig while excited."

Claude bit back his amusement at the garble of mortification and tugged down one of the hands that covered Dimitri's face.

"I trust you." He kissed his palm. Then each of his fingers. "Besides, I never minded the bruises. I always found them lovely little reminders of our time together." If far too effective. Claude had learned to avoid them if he had any business that really couldn't wait on his tendency to track down Dimitri when they faded to a mottled yellow. 

The uncertainty in his face remained, but Dimitri relented with a soft sigh and an even softer kiss to Claude's forehead. "...Okay." 

His hands remained maddeningly away from where Claude wanted them, but the distressed tension in Dimitri's body faded as Claude picked up where he left off, dragging the spit-soaked cock against his lips, making them slick and shiny, before swallowing it down once again.

Despite how he had done this before, Claude had to concentrate. He hadn't been exaggerating. Dimitri simply stuffed his mouth close to bursting. He had been better at this. Had, at one point, been able to take Dimitri all the way until his throat had fluttered around the crown and his nose brushed against a thatch of blond hair.

Now, it was a struggle to get down the fluid positively drenching the back of his throat. He pulled back more than he would like, inhaling deeply and swallowing what he could, but he dove back in again and again, more determined than before.

So, _yeah_ , maybe he'd been better practiced once upon a time. But now he was greedier. Desperate. More appreciative of the noises he was inciting. Of the jump of muscles when his tongue rasped against a sensitive spot. Of the intoxicating warmth surrounding him.

He never had such want clawing at his chest, reminding him of what he had to lose and what he had lost.

A shaky hand settled on his cheek. 

Blinking open eyes he hadn't realized had closed, Claude focused upward.

Dimitri, glazed over and stunned, ran a worshipful hand over Claude's cheek. He traced the shape of his cock through flushed skin, entranced at how he could feel himself. His thumb eventually strayed to the swollen lips stretched around him, stroking the place where he disappeared between them. 

"Amazing..."

Thumb still a heavy, dragging presence on his mouth, Claude shivered and clenched his thighs together for a sliver of relief. It would be a matter of moments to work open his pants and take himself in hand. He could fuck into his own grip until he spilled over his fingers and the cloak at his knees. But it was too soon and not nearly enough for Claude. 

Regretfully displacing Dimitri's hand, he pulled off just for one or two blessedly unhindered inhales. Breath back, he rained down kisses on the tip of Dimitri's cock, toying with the slit. With an impish grin and a flick of his tongue, he felt a pulse of fluid coat his taste buds.

"So nice and wet for me, aren't you?" Claude murmured, catching another bead of precum. 

He smothered both Dimitri's broken reply and the sudden twinge in his knees by shoving back onto Dimitri's cock. He let Dimitri rest in his mouth while he shifted his legs, trying to ease the growing discomfort. Even that was too much and he groaned as his own cock rubbed against the wet spot in his pants. It was obscene, just how much he was leaking without touching himself. 

Needing something more grounding, he gave in and grinded the heel of his palm against himself. The friction was just enough to take the edge off, but the ache in his legs remained. Despite the cushion of the cloak, his body was starting to let him know the consequences of the solid stone floor and the cramped position he'd maneuvered himself into.

It was really too bad he hadn't gotten over his hangup of bedrooms when they had been doing this on the regular. He had his reasons, many of them under the assumption he was just indulging an infatuation. Still knee deep in that pretense, it wasn't until that last night together that Claude accepted Dimitri's tentative invitation to his room. 

It was the one and only time they'd gone further than hands and mouths.

That night... Back then, Claude had thought he'd made the right call avoiding their own rooms. It was too intimate, too many opportunities to linger and indulge.

Claude, still so unwilling to open himself, had taken the lead, mind already set on how things would go. Dimitri, desperate for reassurance, had easily let himself be tipped over onto his hands and knees.

It had been clumsy. 

Claude had put on a decent show that he knew what he was doing. But late-night readings and that frankly traumatic lecture from his mom years ago could only get him so far.

Dimitri had been patient, probably too patient as Claude played trial and error with his body. He had almost given up, determined to cover up his failed fumblings with much more practiced mouth. But then Dimitri's knees had buckled and he had whined in shocked pleasure.

Things had gone more smoothly after that. But it could have been better. 

Claude wanted to drag Dimitri to _his_ room, to try again. To see if he could make Dimitri blind with lust without him suffering through a half-assed plan. To not stifle confessions and vows with a quick mouth and rough thrusts.

He wanted to offer Dimitri the same. To let him take Claude apart with his fingers, his mouth, his cock. Claude wanted to relax enough to spread his legs for Dimitri and let him have his way with him.

It was staggering how much Claude wanted that. Wanted more. If this is what Dimitri had felt two years ago in the face of Claude continuously reeling him in and pushing him back at arm's length, then Claude had his own apologies to make.

Claude wasn't content to wait anymore. No more watching and seeing where the cards fell. He'd give Dimitri everything he had and whether or not this was another one of Garreg Mach's doomed flings, Claude wouldn't regret reaching for the future he wanted. 

As for now...

Lips puffy and jaw sore, Claude hungrily swallowed around Dimitri's cock, drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. His pulse throbbed in his ears and he felt more than heard the ragged moan. 

Dimitri's hand rubbed Claude's neck mindlessly, occasionally wandering upward to card through Claude's hair. He was overly gentle, clenching his hand away from whenever it got to be too much.

Claude swallowed again and again until his throat stung and Dimitri _wailed,_ arching sharply and dislodging him entirely.

Claude grunted in disappointment, wanting to feel and taste Dimitri as he finished, but he remained hard between them, a deep uncomfortable looking red. 

Dimitri gasped for air, hands tensing and relaxing on Claude's shoulders in turns. "Claude..." he whispered, voice a broken, jagged thing.

He was immediately on alert. "You doing okay?"

"No, yes, I–" Dimitri floundered, mouth crumpled into a frustrated line.

But his hands were still on Claude, fingers absently rubbing the skin at his nape.

Taking the opportunity to give his legs a break, Claude twisted his body until he was face to face with Dimitri again, dread not quite infecting his veins, but poised to.

"What is it?" 

"It's too–" He swallowed the word up, staring unhappily at the ceiling. "Are you not uncomfortable? Let me attend to you first."

Absolutely he was, but Claude could read between the lines. It was easy, when his own feelings were scrawled all over Dimitri's face.

Playfully tugging a tuft of blond hair, Claude hummed loudly. "Sorry, pretty sure I mentioned wanting to drag you to my bed? That wasn't me running my mouth off in the heat of things, you know."

"I...I know." The downturned eyes told Claude that Dimitri _didn't_ know. Not really. Not for sure.

Claude hadn't either. But seeing Dimitri's reluctance for things to end so soon bolstered his own confidence. 

He nudged Dimitri's chin up until he gave in and met Claude's eyes. "For the record? As enjoyable as this has been, and it really _really_ has been, I'd like to steal you away to somewhere with more cushions. Also, a lock." Just thinking about Gilbert being the one to wander by and investigate the odd noises was a douse of cold water for Claude.

"We'll probably have to actually talk about–" He gestured between the two of them. He knew where he stood. But that didn't mean Dimitri did. Or that Dimitri was ready and willing to defy royal tradition and expectations all for Claude. But that wasn't a conversation for a closet. "– _this_ at some point. But I can promise you this. There will be another time." He drew an X over his chest and then did the same over Dimitri's heart.

Mouth screwed up and eye shiny around the edges, Dimitri nodded. Uncaring of where Claude's lips had been, he tugged him into a kiss. It was slow – traces of hesitation not entirely gone – but unrelenting, stealing back all of Claude's breath.

"I'll hold you to that," he panted when they parted, forehead leaning against Claude's own.

"You better," Claude laughed breathlessly, in awe of where the day had gone. "Now... Where was I?" he hummed, eyes bright and smile wide. He pecked Dimitri one last time before he contorted himself back between strong thighs still cruelly stuck in uniform pants.

Even with their little detour, Dimitri hadn't softened much. Still a lovely weight in his palm, it was a matter of a few strokes and a dirty kiss before he was a dripping mess between Claude's lips again.

Dimitri had to have been holding back. Where he'd been still before, he now hitched his hips carefully up into Claude's mouth. His breathing became rougher, louder. And while Dimitri had never been much of a talker, Claude's name proved to be the eternal exception, filling the cramped space in choked whines and reverent sighs.

A hand seized his hair as if he was about to yank Claude – maybe closer, maybe further away – but it loosened quickly, even before he registered the sting. 

Claude wouldn't have said no to a little hair pulling, but he soaked up how Dimitri's hand was still tangled up in the bird's nest that had become his hair, restlessly toying with the strands as he shook.

"C-Claude, please, I'm–I'm–"

Claude shuddered at the cry. A smothering warmth swept through his body, settling heaviest in his hips. He ignored the insistent thrum of his own cock and took Dimitri deeper, his hunger for the man writhing under him not even close to being satiated. He wanted to memorize the feeling of Dimitri's cock splitting his lips and stuffing his mouth until the only thing he knew was the stretch, the smell, the taste.

"Claude!"

Bracing his boot against the wall, Claude pressed forward, lips snug around Dimitri's cock and leaving him no choice but to come in his mouth.

He felt the moment when Dimitri finally broke. Cock swelling just that little bit more, body going impossibly stiff and voice caught in a choked off gasp–

Even as prepared as Claude was, the sudden burst edged on too much. The first swallow went down rough – mouth still stretched wide, throat quivering at the excess – but he was eager to take it all.

Mindful even as he emptied himself into a warm willing mouth, Dimitri clung to Claude, quaking with every pulse of his cock. Even then, fingers that scrabbled against Claude's back disappeared, coinciding with a loud ripping noise.

Claude tore himself away when his lungs' protest turned into a demand. He buried his face in Dimitri's hip, shivering, a touch away from flooding his own pants. He focused on the slowing of Dimitri's gasps, of how his cock still twitched out spend between them.

When the shudders ceased and everything went quiet, Dimitri gathered Claude up in his arms, smoothing back the mess he had made of his hair and peppering kissing all over his face. 

"Thank you," he said. Because, _of course_ , Dimitri was still a silly prince who hadn't broken the habit of thanking Claude after every little dirty thing he did. "Allow me make it good for you too," he murmured after a searching kiss, no doubt tasting himself on Claude's tongue.

"If you would...be so kind," Claude groaned out, lightheaded from how turned on he was.

Fingers dug into the meat of Dimitri's shoulders as he carefully worked Claude's pants open, mindful enough to not jostle him too much until he drew him from his soaked prison. Claude hissed, the air hitting overheated flesh, and his hips reflexively jerked forward to grind against a firm stomach – only to fall short when Dimitri held him in place.

"As beautiful as I remembered," Dimitri said in the face of Claude's grunted complaint. "You never cease to take my breath away."

Claude tried again. He squirmed in place, his cock bobbing with the movement. "This is– Haaa, _definitely_ the opposite of–of _being_ _kind_." Even if he throbbed with how easy it was for Dimitri to keep him still.

"I apologize," Dimitri said, but his hands didn't even twitch. "I simply...I'd like just a moment to commit this to memory." His eye roved over Claude, taking him in like a feast to be devoured or a stunning painting behind a corded rope.

He wasn't wrong, the picture they made– 

Dimitri, pants undone, cock soft but still slick from Claude's mouth... Claude flushed red and swollen, tip already sticky from entrapment and dribbling more onto the scarred plane of Dimitri's belly...

Claude groaned and tugged at Dimitri's wrists. "You can look and touch the artwork, you know. I'll even commission some for you if you just please, _please_ –"

A hand, a perfect princely hand that remained so even with its calluses and scars and terrifying strength, trailed a finger from slit to base, before he gently cupped his balls still caught in his uniform pants.

Claude _wheezed_ at the scant pressure. He tried his luck again, desperate for more than the few exploratory scraps Dimitri gave him, and found relief as his cock dragged against skin. Uninhibited, he rocked again, keening and smearing a line of precum onto Dimitri's stomach.

All too soon, Dimitri pulled him back, a travesty of the highest order, until a hand was on him again, loosely fisting it. With his other hand, Dimitri encouraged Claude forward again, and then again, until he was riding his hand, cockhead butting into his belly with every pass and wetting the fingers around him.

He held onto Dimitri's, again, amazing chest. "If we–if we had the space, I would lay–" His movements stuttered, one of Dimitri's calluses making him dizzy with how it rubbed against his cock. "–lay you out and rut between _these_ –" He squeezed Dimitri's chest, thumbs flicking his nipples. "–until I spilled over your pretty throat."

Dimitri crushed his lips against Claude's, still some fervor left in him despite being wrung dry. The noises he made as Claude played with his chest until it was a lovely pink was all the answer he needed.

Dimitri sagged bonelessly against the wall when they parted, loose hair sticking to his face and neck. He looked content, _intent_ , still staring at Claude like a divine revelation.

"You've grown so handsome." He swayed forward to ghost his lips against Claude's beard. 

"You saying I wasn't, a-ah," Air in short supply and tongue uncooperative, he swallowed and tried again, "was I...not before?"

Dimitri didn't rise to the bait. Didn't even seem to hear it as he played with his cockhead, meticulously coating his hand in Claude's own fluids. "You weren't the only one to look," he whispered, imparting his own secret as Claude fell apart in his arms. "Even when I forbade myself, I found my gaze drifting to you."

He tightened his grip just that much more, a minuscule adjustment for him, but the slick pressure was enough to make Claude crumple forward, face tucked into Dimitri's nape.

"I thought about our night together often," Dimitri continued, one hand helping Claude to fuck the other. "How you looked in my bed. The filth you muttered as you worked your way inside of me. The way you dripped out of me after."

Claude had miscalculated. Badly. Somewhere along the way, Dimitri had found his words and sharpened them into daggers that sank into Claude's skin, pinning him helplessly against the onslaught.

His cock _ached_. 

But his mouth couldn't leave well enough alone.

It took effort to keep his breath from hitching as he spoke. To stifle the moans every time he thrust into the snug grip of Dimitri's hand, remembering just how he'd clenched down on Claude's cock with every snap of his hips. " _Ohhh_ , I remember. You were a sight. That night." He forced down a keen as Dimitri let go to spit in his hand, voice just a little threadier when the grip taking hold of him again was easier to drive into. "You wanted– You wanted me to mess you up. To give you something to remember me by." Even if Claude hadn't allowed Dimitri to return the favor, not with his words and not with his body, Claude had doomed himself already. He remembered everything that night. He remembered Dimitri – utterly wrecked and nothing but adoration in his eyes. Maybe even love.

"So I did. I wanted you to...to feel me all the way home. To remember who was the one who–" The ridge under the head of his cock caught on one of the bigger scars on Dimitri's stomach and Claude couldn't quite help the strangled shout. It took a moment, for his breath to return, to speak without panting. "–that _I_ was the one who spread you open and made you scream."

The hand on his back – encouraging Claude's hips, sometimes directing them – moved. Where it had once rested just above the loose waistline of his pants, it now dropped lower, working its way between fabric and skin until it grasped the curve of his ass, bearing down until Claude groaned.

He tensed, then again, harder this time, limbs spasming, as fingers dipped further to rub against his hole. Dry skin dragged against sensitive muscle, toying with the little bit of give.

Claude bit down on the closest thing he could find, smothering the yell that stung his throat. His cock gushed against Dimitri's stomach, the hand around him catching some as it slowed its strokes and diligently worked Claude dry. His body seized with each pump of his cock, each one the strike of a thunder spell, lighting up all his nerves and rendering him immobile as he gave into the overload of sensation.

He sharply inhaled as Dimitri released him, his cock giving one last pitiful spurt before it went still between his legs, raw and oversensitive. Static still prickling at his skin, he soaked up the closeness. The press of sticky skin against his own felt blissful. 

The stiffness in his jaw abruptly reminded Claude what he was doing and he unclenched his teeth around what turned out to be Dimitri's shoulder. There were little pinpricks of blood in some spots, but nothing a vulnerary couldn't easily patch up. 

Stroking the mark, Claude spoke. "Guess you really did learn how to play underhanded, huh?"

Dimitri teased the hairs at Claude's neck, his hand a wonderful weight. "Perhaps." And then, with a note of concern, "Did you...dislike it?"

Claude pulled back, about to gesture between them the _plethora_ of evidence to the contrary, when pain shot up through his legs, reminding him of the abuse he was putting them through and putting a swift end to the pleasant buzz ricocheting throughout his body.

The hand on his neck stilled. "Oh. I see. I hadn't–"

Claude kissed Dimitri's chagrin away, not allowing his wince to be taken the wrong way a moment longer. "I definitely didn't. I liked everything. I like _you_." He looked Dimitri head on, hoping his sincerity shone through despite the burn of giving into an age-old reflex. A pale substitute of words, offering a crumb of himself to elicit more from another. Dimitri deserved the whole truth, and Claude found himself willing to give it.

Just maybe when his legs didn't feel like a battlefield of fire and pins.

"But please. Next time a bed."

Like Claude hadn't explicitly promised him just that in the middle of a blowjob, Dimitri paused, then lit up. "...'Next time.' Yes, of course."

Claude couldn't blame him though. Not after everything and not with that stunning smile.

"But before that..." Dimitri glanced down, drawing in a breath, then looked up. Resolution gleamed in that blue, blue eye. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

The offer wasn't too unusual. Back then, they had spent time together that didn't involve them pawing at each other. Claude had sought Dimitri out more than once when all he wanted was a friendly presence or a different perspective. But they always parted after their trysts, Claude always side stepping Dimitri's offers and Dimitri learning not to ask.

Claude didn't hesitate. "Food and your lovely company? Count me in." Awareness of the world outside started to slither back in, and Claude frowned thoughtfully. "If we haven't already missed it?" Had it been minutes or hours since he had taken off his shirt?

"Let's find out, shall we?" Undeterred, Dimitri kissed Claude sweetly before pulling away.

That being said, he dithered as he cleaned the two of them up. Claude had pushed his own shirt into his hands over Dimitri's protests, needing to put a load out for laundry anyway, and watched as he meticulously wiped down both of them. When he'd finally finished both getting them as clean as they could get with no wash basin and a little bit of spit and satisfying himself with his not-so-secret examination of Claude's chest and shoulder muscles, he delicately tucked Claude's softened cock back into his pants, taking the extra care to button him up. 

With a warning squeeze, Dimitri lifted him up and off of him, until Claude was back in his corner, legs tingling from the sudden rush of blood.

Dimitri was quicker than him in making himself presentable, already back on his feet while Claude was still massaging feeling back into his calves. But it didn't take long for him to pop up as well once he was sure his legs wouldn't give out. 

It was around when Claude was shrugging his coat back on, soiled shirt balled up in his pocket, that he heard the creaking.

Cloak nudged away from the door, Dimitri grasped the brass handle and pulled again in, what Claude soon realized, was an attempt _not_ to open the door like they had already tried so many times, but to slowly rip the fixture out from the wood. 

The door groaned under the assault, fissures steadily appearing around the escutcheon plate of the handle, until with an almighty _crack,_ it gave way.

Dropping the mangled piece of metal, his gauntlet looking a tad bit warped itself, Dimitri stuck his hand in the newfound hole in the wood and tugged it open.

And wouldn't you know? As easy as that.

A laugh bubbled up from Claude's chest and he leaned against the wall to keep standing. "So there _was_ a reason you didn't want to open the door."

Backlit from the glow of the hallway's candelabras, Dimitri bowed his head. "I apologize. It was selfish of me. I simply...missed being around you. Even if that too was my own doing. Still, I had no right–"

Claude pressed a finger to his mouth and Dimitri fell silent.

"So, what you're telling me is that you _don't_ care about persevering millennia-old artifacts from our most esteemed Academy. Dimitri, I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you." 

Claude savored how Dimitri's smile unfurled at the edges. "Well. I am, after all, the Shatterer of Doors."

He gave into laughter again, feeling so much lighter than he had in months. Maybe years.

Snagging the cloak at their feet, Claude gallantly offered it to Dimitri with a small bow and wink. After a small sigh at the stains and rips that it weathered, Dimitri threw it over his shoulder. He looked over their prison turned hideaway turned crime scene one last time before turning to Claude.

Dimitri held out a hand.

Claude's chest tightened. Both at the outstretched hand and the tentative hope on Dimitri's face. Plans and schemes and contingencies whirled in his head how to keep this, how to keep _them_. 

With determination thrumming in his heart, Claude took the hand and let himself be pulled out of the dark. 

But not before he closed the distance between them, rocking onto his toes to press up into Dimitri's lips. They lingered for a long moment, caught in the archway. A promise not quite ready to be spoken, but made all the same. 

Hand in hand, they slipped from their stolen moment, chancing the light of day.

"If that's the case, I should tell you about this one pesky antique I know. It just so happens to be in the entrance to my room–"

**Author's Note:**

> the long and short of this au is if the slithers and rhea duked it out a few centuries beforehand and took each other out and seteth was just, fuck it, throw the whole religion away it's time for school y'all 
> 
> and lo' did he make medieval college
> 
> also there's a continuation to this knocking around in my head (aphrodisiac mishaps! chest-fucking!! an actual bed!!! communication!!!!!) but first I have an entire folder of dimiclaude wips that have been languishing for two months as I figured out how to write smut in a non-rp context
> 
> so, uh. how'd I do, I guess?


End file.
